Page 25 of Deadly Legacy
Nikon knew he’d crossed some invisible boundary in his vigilance, transforming defense into confinement.
When had his drive to shield Reuben from his father begun to overshadow the partnership they’d built?
“I won’t let him hurt you again.” The words slipped out, barely audible.
“Then stand with me while I face him.” Reuben’s voice softened, but the determination remained. “Let me handle this my way, with you beside me, not in front of me.”
Nikon turned toward the wall of screens, each displaying a different fragment of the threat encircling them. Wallace’s financial records. Dmitrii’s network map. The schematics for Quantize Guard’s facial recognition algorithms.
His fingers brushed the communications panel. The hum of electronics filled their silence until the perimeter check-in rang once.Three AM.
“I need some air.” Reuben’s voice was tight as he grabbed his jacket. He paused at the door. “We’ll talk at home.”
The lock clicked behind him. And in the blue glow of the monitors, Nikon’s reflection splintered across Wallace Hoyt’s frozen face.
Chapter 8
“He still thinks I can’t handle myself.” Reuben’s voice cut through the whispered conversations and gentle classical music that filled the La Qualité Café. He hadn’t meant to start with that, had planned on exchanging pleasantries first, but the words burst out the moment Natalia settled into her seat.
She paused, one hand still on the chair’s armrest, studying him with that perceptive gaze that caught everything. “Good morning to you, too.” A hint of amusement curved her lips as she arranged her purse beside her.
“Sorry.” Heat crawled up his neck. “Good morning.”
The waiter appeared at their table, materializing between conversations. Natalia ordered without glancing at the menu. “My usual, please. And he’ll have another of whatever that is.” She gestured to his half-empty cup. “He needs it.”
When the waiter departed, she folded her hands on the table. The diamond on her wedding band caught the light, throwing prisms across the white tablecloth. The faint scent of her jasmine perfume mingled with the rich coffee aroma, shrinking their private corner into something more intimate. “So what did Nikon do this time?”
Reuben sighed, slumping against the backrest. “We argued. Not even a real fight, just... he’s being overprotective again. About Wallace, about security... everything.”
“So you had a fight.” Not a question, but a simple acknowledgment of fact. Her fingers traced invisible patterns onthe tabletop. “And now you’re wondering if you overreacted or if he’s being impossible.”
“How do you always do that?” His eyes narrowed.
“Do what?”
“Read my mind. I’m supposed to be the mind reader, remember?” Reuben’s mouth quirked up into a grin.
Natalia’s lips quirked into a smile. “Twelve years of being married to Grigorii Matvei teaches you things. You learn to hear what isn’t said.” She leaned forward slightly. “Tell me what happened.”
Reuben stared into his coffee. “We were all reviewing surveillance footage of Wallace.” His stomach twisted at the memory. “Alexei suggested reporting him to the federal authorities. They said it was the cleanest way to handle the situation. When I opposed it, Nikon said he was trying to protect me. As if I couldn’t handle making decisions about my own father.”
“And that bothered you.” Her eyes remained fixed on him, not even blinking.
“Wouldn’t it bother you? Wallace might be a terrible father who disowned me, but he’s still my father. I should’ve been the first to know.”
The waiter returned with fresh coffee. Reuben wrapped his hands around the cup, the porcelain hot enough to sting his palms, grounding him.
“When Samuil was born,” Natalia stirred her coffee with deliberate movements, “Grigorii put bulletproof glass in every window of our house. He wouldn’t let anyone hold the baby without being searched for weapons first.”
Natalia stared past him, eyes catching memories only she could see. “I was furious until I realized this was his way of loving. The more Matvei men love, the more they fear losing what matters to them.”
Reuben’s fingers tightened around his cup. “But Nikon doesn’t need to shield me from information.” The words tasted bitter, like the dregs of his coffee.
“Maybe not.” She took a careful sip. “But did you know Nikon once stayed awake for three days when Grigorii was shot during a territory fight? He personally checked every security detail when Alexei was threatened last winter.” Her dark eyes found his, pinning him in place. “Nikon breathes responsibility like its oxygen. He doesn’t know how to exist without it.”
Something loosened in Reuben’s chest. The image formed clearly—Nikon hunched over monitors, refusing sleep, cross-checking security—that was the man he knew.
The one who insisted on driving him to meetings despite his own packed schedule. Who texted to make sure he arrived safely, even at legitimate business venues.
